‘Yes,’ I confirmed, taking another gulp of coffee, my eyes watering at the heat. I studied the stainless steel refrigerator devoid of any personal... affects—not even a magnet or a picture—like it was the most interesting thing in the world. ‘Um…can I get that ride?’ ‘Oh, right.’ There was an intercom in the kitchen, too, and he pushed a button on it. I assumed it was the doorman who responded and said he’d buzz when the car was ready. ‘So, Just-Janie…are you a student? An actress maybe?’ ‘You. It wasn't part of the routine, but several girls either looked on enviously or tried it themselves. Of course, several were even more flexible but elected not to show it for fear of being labeled a freak or worse."Eat your own pussy -- then I'll be impressed," Erin hissed from nearby."She'd rather eat yours," Angelina whispered back."I am not a dyke," Meredith complained, almost too loudly. "Besides, Erin's got a waiting list. She keeps it pinned to her thong." So what? The only thing you have. From Gary to Greta Part IIby Domme Mistress and GretaOur life in Paris took on an entirely new meaning. My wife delved into mysavings account, the money I had worked so hard to earn and save towardsmy retirement, and "invested" in my "education". She paid top money tohave me trained in various houses around Paris in all aspects of domicileservant chores. Every morning I would set out with my maid outfit in mybag, heading to a different home. >From washing and ironing, to cookingand cleaning up,. ....Paul. He hadn't even dressed. He was covered by a hotel dressing gown and had his tux and shoes under his arm. I asked him what the hell was he still doing here.He told me he was waiting on me. I moved one door down to where my room was, the mother of the bride.I told him if he thought I was going to fuck him, minutes after he fucked my daughter, he was sadly mistaken.He said no problem, and the bastard honestly didn't seem bothered. Well, his loss. He asked if he could have a kiss.